


Trauma

by softnsquishable



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I hope it was worth it, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mpreg, Mpreg Birth, One Shot, Peterick, Stand Alone, Trauma, it was for me, peterick mpreg, this was a long time in the making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnsquishable/pseuds/softnsquishable
Summary: Patrick looked at his baby for a minute, then started to cry. It was a normal reaction. Having a baby was a process and now that it was over, Pete could understand his tears, and anyone else could too.Except Patrick wasn't crying happy tears. These tears were hurt, angry, absolutely traumatized. Oh, Patrick loved his little baby boy, more than anything, and he'd never give him up, but his heart was broken. Every second he held Ollie, he could feel it all again, the horrors he’d been through all those days. He could feel the tearing, the abandonment in the strange room, the weakness and aching emptiness of having Ollie torn away from him. Patrick had been robbed of what should have been a beautiful and rewarding labor of love, and he could never get that back.------A story I used as an excuse to write out everything I was inspired to put out after watching Louise Pentland's "PTSD After Childbirth" video. Lots of hurt/comfort, angst and loving moments of fluff woven in, with an ending that'll hopefully leave you feeling warm and fuzzy again after enduring... "Trauma".





	Trauma

Pete couldn’t take his eyes off the sweaty head in his lap as the van rolled down the highway. Patrick was taking shaky breaths, arm around his hoodie-clad middle as they bounced along the road, tires clearly needing some air. In fact, the yellow color of the Clandestine hoodie (borrowed from Pete) reflected the color of slowness, slowing down, and Pete wanted none of it. The signs indicated the hospital was coming up on the right, but it couldn’t be soon enough for Pete. Seeing Patrick in this much pain was breaking his heart.

“Pete…” Patrick’s clammy hand moved to hold Pete’s, giving it a shaky squeeze. 

“We’re almost there, ‘Trick,” Pete promised, rubbing his knuckles softly with his calloused thumb. “You’re gonna be better soon.”

Patrick gave a weak nod, wincing a little from another stab of pain. It couldn’t be appendicitis, he’d already had the surgery. If it was a flu, it was the worst he’d ever had. The nausea was relentless, he couldn’t even hold water, and the fever was up and down. Not to mention the headaches, which were more like migraines at this point. Patrick was miserable. He just wanted to be better, go back on tour. He could only hope to God he wasn’t dying, or worse: impaired to the point that he’d no longer be able to perform.

Luckily, the emergency room in the little town wasn’t all that busy that day, so Patrick was admitted without a wait. The others were sat in the waiting area, trying to get comfortable it cold, plastic chairs with matching walls and floors. Everything smelled too clean, especially when they’d just come from a van full of dust, food remains and shower-deprived B.O. It was also very empty, despite there being people passing by all the time. Not that it wasn’t generally unsettling, having to send your friend (boyfriend in Pete’s case) off to be poked and prodded in hopes of healing him to a room labeled ‘emergency’, but it felt like the very atmosphere of the place was working against them too.

Pete took the coffee he was offered solely for the warmth in his hands. He took a few sips, but the scent of the hospital lingered in the bitter grounds, making him want to gag. Tossing it in the bin, he checked the clock again, amazed that not twenty minutes had passed since they arrived. Did the clock stop? Slow down? It almost felt like it was going backwards as he could do nothing but wait, Joe and Andy letting him have some space to breathe. Nothing they could say was going to help.

The doctor finally appeared with a diagnosis.

“He’s contracted a virus, and become dehydrated from the excessive vomiting. We’re prescribing a prenatal safe medication for him now.”

Pete nodded slowly, taking a moment to grasp the information, and the fact that the word ‘prenatal’ was involved. Prenatal...what did that mean? He was sure he’d heard it before somewhere.   
Andy clarified,

“You said prenatal...does that mean Patrick-”

“Yes, he’s pregnant.”

Pete’s whole world stopped for a minute. Patrick was pregnant...Patrick, his boyfriend, with guy parts, was pregnant. That meant he was having a baby...Pete was having a baby. Well, Patrick was, but it was Pete’s baby too. In less than nine months, he was going to be a father, and Patrick was too, unless he preferred mom. Bottom line, there was gonna be a baby soon, and it was gonna be theirs.

Pete didn’t realize he’d fainted until he was waking up. He was aware of the pain in his head first, then of Joe and Andy staring at him on the table. Pete groaned a little as he sat up, looking between them. 

“What...when…” Pete wanted an explanation.

“When you found out Patrick was knocked up, you were knocked out,” Joe stated, only to be hit on the shoulder by Andy. 

“Ow, okay, I was telling him what he asked,” Joe grumbled, rubbing the sore spot.

“He’s fine, Andy.” Pete exhaled slowly. “He’s gonna be okay, though, right?”

“Yeah. The doctor said they’re just keeping him here for a few nights to make sure he gets his rest and fluids.” Andy helped Pete up. “He’s in a room on the next floor. We’re allowed to visit.”

“Let’s go then.” 

Since Andy remembered the number and he could actually sort of navigate the place, he led the way, Joe trailing behind Pete. One elevator ride and a few wrong turns later they made it to 37B. Pete gave himself a moment to prepare before he opened the door and stepped inside.

Patrick looked...better. Better in that he was no longer covered in sweat, he was breathing normally, and the unnatural rosiness of his face had been replaced with a tired pale. Pete walked over to the bed, Patrick looking up from his IV tube when he heard the steps. 

Pete hugged him softly as soon as he got to the bed. Patrick held onto him gently, really needing the human contact, especially from Pete. Pete didn’t mind him hanging on, not wanting to let go of the little guy anyways. He held him up for a bit, kissing his head and just being sweet.

“How are you feeling?” Pete asked softly, while Patrick’s head still rested on his chest.

“Better,” he replied softly. “I’m just sort of sore now. Sore and tired.”

“That’s normal.” Pete rested his chin on Patrick’s head, sighing softly. “They told you about the baby, right?”

“Of course they did,” Patrick mumbled. He looked down after that, fingers lightly twitching against the side of his hospital gown.

“Right…” Pete shifted his head off of Patrick, getting more eye to eye. “...are you gonna keep it?”

“I...yes,” Patrick said softly, then added a firm nod that seemed more sure. “I thought about it a lot, and I decided I am gonna keep them.”

“Patrick, are you sure we can handle this?” Pete squeezed his shoulder gently. “You’re still just a kid, it’s so much strain and your body is already having a negative reaction to this-”

“Pete.” 

Patrick put his hand on Pete’s, keeping their eyes locked. Patrick almost looked smaller to Pete now, big baby blues so set in the decision, but still so scared. Pete cupped Patrick’s face gently in his hands, Patrick’s hands resting on his again.

“I just want you to be okay,” Pete almost requested. “I-If something happened to you...Patrick…”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Patrick promised softly. “I can do this...this we can do this.”

Pete didn’t say anything else, closing his eyes and putting their foreheads together. Patrick did the same, just taking soft, slow breaths as they both worked through their crazy thoughts. It was a lot, it was something that neither of them could have predicted. They were both scared, as well as Patrick was concealing it, for everything they were committing to. They were going to be okay, though, they decided. Two days later when they left the hospital, they had no idea how much they were about to go through.

\---

The first scare came at a rather rowdy festival. Patrick was four months pregnant, his stomach just starting to curve out into a bump. It was concealed by most of his clothes, and his guitar as they played. Patrick was bouncing a little as was normal, cap down low as he sang their lyrics with vigor. 

He wasn’t ready for the bottle to hit his knee. Patrick gasped and buckled, collapsing back and landing on his butt. That made his spine crunch in a painful way, Patrick groaned and swallowed back some nausea, as Pete rushed over to him, bass tossed aside. 

“Are you okay?” Pete asked quickly, while Joe took Patrick’s guitar. 

“Yeah...just, like...that hurt.” Patrick gritted his teeth, looking down at his knee. He almost threw up right there from the sight of his own bloody knee. 

“Fuck, that’s...not great.” Pete looked from the injury to the singer’s face. “Can you walk?”

“If I can get on my feet.” Patrick nodded. “Help me up?”

Pete and Joe got on either side of Patrick, each taking an arm to help him stand. Patrick was alright for a few seconds, but he gritted his teeth at the pain in his knee when he tried to put pressure on his injured leg. Pete felt him starting to fall again, and he and Joe picked him up with that, carrying him off stage while the crowd jeered and booed. Andy did the other boys the favor of flipping them off before following the group backstage.

Pete and Joe set Patrick on the sofa, bringing over a stool to prop his leg up. The paramedics followed Andy over while Pete sat beside Patrick, hand behind his back to support him. The medic knelt down, cutting open Patrick’s pant leg to access and assess the damage. 

“Is it bad?” Patrick asked, not daring to look down.

“Doesn’t seem too bad,” the medic replied. “However, I am going to have to remove this glass and clean the cuts. It’s going to sting.”

“I’ll be right here, Trick,” Pete whispered softly, giving Patrick’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Patrick just nodded, closing his eyes and wincing as the medic started at his work. The tweezers were cold and sharp, covered in a sanitary solution that made his knee burn. He tried not to whimper, just squeezing Pete’s hand tight and taking soft, quick breaths. It wasn’t the worst pain in the world, but it still hurt substantially and he wanted it to be over. 

After he was cleaned up and bandaged, Patrick’s knee was pronounced unbroken or sprained. It was going to sting for a while, just from the cuts, but he would be fine. Patrick was taken back to the hotel to lay down and get some rest for the night, and that was supposed to be the end of that. 

When Patrick woke up in a cold sweat at two am, back aching and extremely nauseous, he knew it wasn’t. Sitting up, he leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees to keep himself up. Patrick groaned softly, fighting the bile that was rising in his throat as he trembled slightly. This was no fun at all.

Pete noticed he was up minutes later. He looked Patrick over, shaking his head and deciding they were going to the doctor, now. Wrapping a blanket around Patrick and scooping him up, Pete carried him downstairs to the lobby and into the car he’d called to whisk him off for a checkup. 

As much as he tried to fight it, Patrick was sick in the car. Twice. The first time they were only able to grab an empty bag of chips, but by the second round Pete had them pull over. Patrick had always hated being sick, and even the weeks of morning sickness hadn’t gotten him used to it. He slouched back against Pete afterwards, closing his eyes again and wishing it was just some sort of bad dream. 

A quick once over from the doctor proved the problem out to be that Patrick had thrown his back out. They gave him a spinal adjustment that was only mildly painful and sent him back home, just telling him to rest and use ice. Pete got him home again, tucking him in with a wrapped bag of ice under his lower vertebrae. 

“You gonna be okay now, love?’ Pete asked, brushing Patrick’s hair back gently. 

“Mmhmm...this is just...sucky night.” Patrick sighed shakily. “I’m not a fan of the whole ‘feeling like crap all the time’ way of life I’m currently stuck in.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Pete whispered, pecking his lips despite the lingering bitter from the vomit. “It’s gonna be worth it though, right? Getting through all this...for them.”

Pete held Patrick’s hand, moving it to rest on Patrick’s little baby belly. Patrick gave a small smile at that, giving Pete’s hand a gentle flex. That was right. That brought his mind back to the right place.

“‘You’re starting to sound like me about it,” Patrick mused, watching their intertwined hands moving slightly with his breathing. 

“Must be your motherly charm rubbing off on me,” Pete chuckled, giving him a little wink. 

“There’s nothing charming about me right now,” Patrick said matter-of-factly. “I’m sticky, pale, bloated and just...blah.”

“No, darling, it’s none of that.” Pete caressed his cheek. “You’re not sticky, you’re glistening like a thousand drops of sunshine being caught by ocean waves. You’re not pale, but porcelain and more beautiful than any doll made of china or pottery glass. You’re not bloated, but swelling up from all the love and life you carry within you. Nothing about you is blah, Patrick…”

Pete brushed a stray tear away from Patrick’s cheek.

“...you’re glowing, more beautiful than you’ve ever been, and I couldn’t love you anymore if my heart grew ten times.”

Patrick sniffed softly, streams running past his temples from the corners of his eyes. Damn his hormones for making him this way. No...Patrick knew in his heart of hearts that whether he was pregnant or had a heart of stone, that still would’ve made him cry. Pete had such a way with words. It was a wonder to Patrick that his lyrics weren’t displayed alongside Keats’ and Shakespeare’s. He was young, Patrick supposed. Still had time to be recognized.

“Now get some sleep, darling,” Pete whispered, kissing his lips and his stomach. “You both need a good rest.”

“We do.” Patrick yawned and closed his eyes, letting Pete tuck the blankets in around him. “Pete...thank you, for everything...I-we need you more than you know.”

“I have some idea.” Pete laid down beside him. “I need you too, dear, whether it seems like it or not.” 

Patrick didn’t answer by then, just nestled up to him with a little sigh. Pete kept his arms around him, resting his head near Patrick’s heart as the younger man slept beneath him. Slowly, he too drifted off. That was one small disaster, over.

\---

The next “exciting” event from Patrick’s pregnancy took place when he was nearly done with his second trimester. He and the band were at a charity dinner put on by MTV. It was mostly for promotion and press coverage that their people had bought them a table, but Patrick and the others were ready to support the cause. It was for Newborns in Need, and especially given the lead singer’s current condition, it seemed a very appropriate event.

Dressed up in a tailored maternity tux and arm in arm with his boyfriend, Patrick was a smiling, shuffling sunshine (as he should be). He kept a conscious hand on his belly, cheerfully answering questions and posing for photos, whether it was with friends, band members, or a few rich and famous fans. He was glad to finally settle at a table when the time came, munching on the choice and expensive catered foods that were provided for the event. It was a good time.

Patrick felt the first cramp, but he thought of it as nothing. He continued to chat with his table mates, smiling softly and nodding along to even what he didn’t understand. When he started to feel sick he stopped snacking, and took a few sips of his sparkling water, in hopes that it would help. Aches not fading, Patrick continued to grin and bear it, taking Pete’s hand beneath the table. 

Pete noticed Patrick shift in his seat, and the way his boyfriend’s pink lip was paling a bit where he was biting it. He leaned close, making it appear that he was only kissing Patrick’s head. He knew Patrick preferred to be low-key about these things.

“Are you alright, love?” Pete said almost soundlessly, before pulling back. 

Patrick nodded, resting his hand on his stomach again. 

“Just a little sore...I’ll just step out for a minute and get myself together.” 

Patrick stood up, doubling over against the table once he had. He felt a tearing within him and he gasped and his eyes closed tight. The drops of liquid he felt against his boxers in the same moment made him want to scream. Shit, no, this could not be happening now. 

Pete was up immediately, trying to hold him up. He looked around, panicked, and shouting for any kind of medic or doctor. He could feel Patrick starting to shake as he tried to contain himself.

Luckily, the ambulance was there almost faster than people could start filming. They sat Patrick back in his chair and started checking out the problem areas. On finding that it was blood starting to stain Patrick’s pants, he was immediately rushed down and out into the ambulance, Pete very close behind. They were both panicking, terrified. Everything about this was pointing to them losing their baby.

Pete held Patrick’s hand tight in the ambulance. Patrick was crying softly despite his best effort, from fear and from pain. Pete was trying not to cry, sniffing a little as Patrick held his hand tighter still. 

“I-I’m scared...Pete...the baby…” Patrick bit back a whimper, panting softly. 

“It’s okay, honey, it’s all gonna be okay.” Pete squeezed his hand back. “Just breathe. Doctor’s gonna make you feel better.”

Pete felt Patrick’s grip loosening. He watched Patrick’s expression fade from distressed to somewhat relaxed. His boyfriend had gone pale and passed out. That sort of made Pete panic even more. Shit, it might not just be the baby. Pete might be losing Patrick.

Several more agonizing hours later, Pete learned that Patrick and the baby were stable. It turned out that Patrick’s placenta had partially separated from the wall of his uterus. It’d put his baby in distress, not getting proper oxygen. They couldn’t exactly reattach it, but they were able to stop it from progressing, and give Patrick some medication to strengthen the baby’s lungs and stimulate their development. They were safe again, for now.

\---

After the dinner scare, Pete wouldn’t let Patrick go to any more events. No shows, no meet and greets, not even a grocery store. Patrick wasn’t on bed rest, but he was under a sort of house arrest. Pete hardly even wanted him to walk out into the yard, definitely not while he wasn’t there. 

Surprisingly, Patrick didn’t seem to mind. Yeah, he’d get annoyed sometimes when he wanted to stretch, but he was always hurting these days so he liked to be pampered. He’d gladly accept any massage, snacks he was craving, and general loving touches (unless he was in a rare ‘don’t touch me’ mood, but that wasn’t too often these days). Patrick was nearing his due date, and he really wanted to have this baby.

Then he passed his due date. Patrick was sort of surprised and sort of unhappy. Like, it’d been nine months, right? Baby was developed, in position, ready to go, as he’d been told. Why wasn’t he going into labor? Only Braxton hicks? God, this was just not going to go his way, was it?

His doctor called him about five days after his due date passed, strongly suggesting he come in to be induced. It was supposed to be a choice, but the way the doctor was talking to him it seemed mandatory. Considering the complications he’d already had, Patrick agreed and he and Pete packed up the car and headed off to the hospital. 

They put Patrick in a bed and put a monitor on him before they gave him the drug. It took a few minutes to kick in, but the pain hit Patrick hard when it did. His whole spine and abdomen spasmed and it was worse than anything he’d been through up to that point. Now it was getting real, and he was actually gonna have a baby...eventually.

Eventually meaning about 41 hours. Once Patrick was officially in labor, he was transferred to a sort of waiting room with too bright lights and two other women that were near the same stage he was. Patrick was allowed to have Pete beside him, but no other visitors, since the room was sort of small. It meant a lot to Patrick, of course, and he held Pete close, but...he honestly felt sort of alone still, at least mentally.

The room wasn’t helping. Patrick hadn’t even gotten a look around the maternity ward beforehand, and the whole place felt strange and a bit unwelcoming. The staff was never the same, due to shift changes and things, so Patrick didn’t have any staff to become familiar with either, much less a doula. To top that off, while Patrick was in waiting, he wasn’t given any sort of pain killers. He was only able to wait it out with a supportive Pete by his side, but even that could only do so much.

“Pete...why aren’t...why isn’t the baby coming?” Patrick asked with whatever breath he could spare. It was maybe thirty hours in at this point, and he was exhausted, hardly able to pass out from the hurting for more than a few minutes.

“I don’t know...the doctor said something about trying to speed it along, but it’s sort of dangerous.” Pete brushed Patrick’s hair back a bit. “I know it’s hard, but you just gotta keep going, Patrick. You’re being so strong and I’m so proud of you for making it this far. Just a little longer.”

“O-Okay...Pete.” Patrick took a shaky inhale, closing his eyes again. “Names...we have to talk about names.”

“Right, right.” He needed to be distracted, Pete could manage that. “Let’s see...for boys we were thinking about names like, uh...how about Ruben?”

“That's a sandwich, Pete.” Patrick shook his head. “Mm...maybe an Aiden or-or a Dylan.”

“Yeah, those are good, baby.” Pete nodded and smiled a little. 

“Y-Yeah, right...God. now I can't pick, there's so many names.” Patrick bit his trembling lip. 

“Shh, you're gonna be fine. Just...hmm…” Pete had to come up with the response for a minute. What would he do? Ah. He got it. 

“Alright...picture yourself in our little house. It's sunny, it's summer. Maybe it's the hottest part of the day and you've just got our bowls of ice cream or popsicles. You look out and there's our baby boy, playing in the yard. He should come in and have his cool down. So you call him...what do you call him?”

Patrick really liked the world Pete had imagined. He was even sort of smiling as he pictured it. He'd call their son inside. Their son. Their little…

“Ollie. His name is Ollie...Oliver.” Patrick gripped Pete's hand as another contraction gripped him, making him feel like his spine was going to snap.

“Ollie. Perfect.” Pete nodded and kissed his temple. “Good job, love. Now just keep breathing, for little Ollie. He's gonna make it.”

Ollie, that was sort of Patrick's new mantra. He had to get through this for Ollie. Even when the doctors told him they'd given him a new drug, inserted right into his thigh, he just kept thinking of him, ignoring the needle. He wanted his baby out, safe and sound. 

They took him to another unfamiliar room for labor. Patrick was up at a sort of angle, so gravity could help ease the baby out. Well, as much as they could. Nothing had been easy up to now and Patrick was sure it wouldn't be. 

Patrick wasn't sure how long he pushed. Someone told him thirty minutes but that seemed like a lie. He just remembered the pain tearing through him, his hips strained and the burning sensation throughout his lower body. He could hardly hear the baby cry over his own broken shouts. 

They didn't even let Patrick see him. As soon as he'd delivered, they took away the baby and started working on him. He'd started bleeding, must've torn something while he was pushing. Pete was sort of pissed off as well as terrified at that point. After all that, Patrick was...broken? Was he going to be okay?

A few hours passed and things were finally quiet. They brought Patrick to a new, clean room. He was in a fresh gown, no longer bleeding...and they finally gave him Ollie. 

Ollie was so much like Patrick, Pete could hardly believe it. His head was covered in apricot hair. His swollen cheeks and pretty link lips look just how Patrick's did when he slept. Even his little nose and eyebrows looked picture perfect and reflected his mom's.

“You did it, Patrick.” Pete squeezed his shoulders. “You did it.”

Patrick looked at his baby for a minute, then started to cry. It was a normal reaction. Having a baby was a process and now that it was over, Pete could understand his tears, and anyone else could too. 

Except Patrick wasn't crying happy tears. These tears were hurt, angry, absolutely traumatized. Oh, Patrick loved his little baby boy, more than anything, and he'd never give him up, but his heart was broken. Every second he held Ollie, he could feel it all again, the horrors he’d been through all those days. He could feel the tearing, the abandonment in the strange room, the weakness and aching emptiness of having Ollie torn away from him. Patrick had been robbed of what should have been a beautiful and rewarding labor of love, and he could never get that back. 

He couldn't talk about it either. People would get the wrong idea, that he was ungrateful or didn't want his baby. It was the exact opposite. He had been through something so terrible that now, if he had no baby at all, he'd probably kill himself. No, Patrick was going to soldier on. As Ollie grew, he'd learn to accept everything...even the PTSD that lingered. 

*****

“You're doing great, Patrick. She's almost here.”

Patrick pushed again, chin to his chest, and groaned softly at the pressure. The little girl was being a bit stubborn about leaving her cozy home inside, but they were getting close. The warm water around him was helping to ease the pain greatly. Yes, this time he was having a water birth, a water birth at home, and it was the best decision he could've made. 

As soon as Patrick had found out he was pregnant again (with their planned baby) he was scared, happy too, but scared. He had horrible dreams about what had happened before, and no one could very comfort him about it. Patrick wanted to enjoy his pregnancy, but he was constantly thinking about having to go through the pain of Ollie again, Ollie being almost three at the time he'd discovered their daughter was conceived. 

Then Patrick found a therapist, a woman who'd been through the same thing. She understood what he was saying. She felt the same as he had, and she helped him talk it out and finally get past his fears. She helped him find a good midwife and doula, and set up a plan to have a birth in the comfort of his own home, instead of a hospital that would make those memories come back. Patrick had never been so grateful, and he and Pete agrees that the baby's godmother would be her. 

After they'd made the tough decisions, the rest of the pregnancy was more relaxed. Patrick and Pete had since been married, so they took a second honeymoon (a babymoon Patrick called it) and then spent the rest of their time getting things ready, with an eager little Ollie to help them. When Patrick went into labor that morning, he'd felt ready, as much as it had hurt him still. 

“You're almost there, darling.” Pete had his arms around Patrick from behind, as his sweaty love panted softly, taking a small breather between contractions. “Our little girl is so close to your arms. Just a little more.”

“Yes...I can do this.” Patrick exhaled slowly, sitting up a bit more now.

“One more big push,” the midwife instructed, while his doula coached him in his relaxed breathing. “Just one more and we'll have her out.”

Patrick pushed, bearing down and letting a soft sound escape him. The pressure was suddenly over and he heard the little cries of an infant. Patrick caught his breath, watching the baby as she was held close beside him, still partly immersed in water and being cleaned with a soft cloth. 

“There she is, Tricky.” Pete was in awe himself, taking in all her little details. “Our baby girl…”

“Oh, love.” Patrick took the little one into his arms, her freshness and warmth pressed gently against his bare chest. It was the most amazing thing in the world to him. She was here and they hadn't taken her away. She was his, theirs...and that made him cry again. 

They were happy tears now, though. Patrick breathed in deeply, nose gently in his daughter's soft brown hair as his lungs were bathed in her sweetness. Her touches, her smell and feel, her gentle breaths on his damp skin were everything he'd been missing. Patrick could feel all the labor pain fading away, hurt healing from now and from years before, like his scars were fading away. He'd healed, taken care of himself and bounced back, made something beautiful. He was so proud of himself, and happier than ever. 

Patrick was moved from the tub to the sofa. He was still just wearing underwear and a soft, fluffy robe, with his precious daughter in his arms with just her diaper on (and a light blanket around her). Pete was close beside him, just beaming and almost crying at the sight too. The precious little things...his little family complete again, and Patrick had never looked so happy, so beautiful. 

“Here comes the big brother.”

Patrick looked up, watching his son as he was lead in by his mother, who'd offered to take care of him during the labor. Ollie's eyes were wide in wonder as he walked to the couch where his parents were sat. The toddler wasn't exactly sure what had happened yet, but his mom and dad looked so happy, and there was something in his mama's arms. 

“Ollie, look.” Patrick shifted the bundle so his son could see her face. “Your new baby sister is here.” 

Ollie's mouth made a little o shape as he watched the tiny girl sleep in Patrick's arms. Whoa. That baby had been in mama's tummy last time he checked. Now she was here and...well she was like the cutest baby doll he'd ever seen, but even cuter. Plus, she was moving a little. How exciting. 

“Here, buddy, come on up.” Pete lifted Ollie up carefully, pulling him into his lap. That way they could be close and Ollie would have a better look. 

Ollie shyly reached a little hand over to touch his sister's. Her skin was so soft and nice that he dared let his touch linger, even holding her hand. Patrick's heart was melting at the sight and he kissed Ollie's head. 

“You gonna help us take care of your baby sister, Ollie?” Patrick asked, looking back to his son.

Ollie nodded quickly, smiling and showing his pearly baby teeth. Of course he would. She was his little baby after all, he'd make sure she was okay. He’d share all...he'd share /most/ of his toys, teach her to do fun things like make mud cakes in the yard and they'd play with Bowie together in the yard all day. 

“That's my boy.” Pete bounced him a little, then slipped his other arm around Patrick to keep his whole little group together in the most intimate way. It was absolutely the perfect scene, the pictures Patrick's mother took going up on the wall immediately. 

When they asked for her name on the birth certificate, Patrick didn't hesitate for a moment to reply with the name he'd decided on with Pete months ago, the name that captured the moment as perfectly as Patrick could have ever imagined. 

“Serenity.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my good friend and amazing writer friend who helped me make essential edits to this story. Please check out her writing on Wattpad (it's so much better than mine!). Her user there is @pavlovee and her stories never fail to amaze me.


End file.
